


Mutual Exchange (Of The Warm Fuzzy Feelings)

by x_Lazart_x



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, Dorks in Love, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Oblivious, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_Lazart_x/pseuds/x_Lazart_x
Summary: What had started out accidentally was now a well orchestrated ruse for Kenma to steal Bokuto's sweaters in the morning.  Along the way Kenma realizes that Bokuto may just have stolen his heart. It seemed to be a fair trade.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 20
Kudos: 169





	Mutual Exchange (Of The Warm Fuzzy Feelings)

Clenching his jaw to quieten the noise of his teeth clacking together, Kenma stubbornly refused to admit that he had miscalculated. Glancing down at his watch, irritation flared upon realizing that it was ten minutes after Bokuto’s usual time of hitting the coffee cart. Had Bokuto came early today? Slept in? Kenma had shown up later than he generally would, had he missed him?

A gust of wind cut straight through his t-shirt, chilling him to the bone. Before leaving that morning he’d double checked the weather and it had promised no wind and only a slight chill in the air. Enough to need a jacket but bearable, for the brief period of time it would take him to steal Bokuto’s. Yet here he was, freezing and with no Bokuto in sight. Miscalculated. 

It most likely would not have been so bad if he wasn’t running on a mere two hours of sleep, leaving him even more susceptible to the cold than usual. Shifting from one foot to the other, his fingers tightened around his coffee cup, desperately trying to soak up the warmth and get some feeling back in his digits. Another minute and then he would be heading for the building to seek refuge, not like that would provide much relief considering the school refused to turn on any heating unless there was ice on the ground. This was how he was going to go. Death by hypothermia. 

“Are you seriously still doing this?” The voice spoke inches from his ear and he might have flinched in surprise if he had more sensation in his limbs. Turning towards Akaashi, face scrunched up in a way that would have had Kuroo immediately backtracking, he worked him jaw loose in order to get words out. 

“I forgot my sweater this morning,” he lied flatly, not even trying to make it sound believable considering they both knew the truth of it. 

“You have at  _ least _ three of Bokuto’s,” Akaashi pointed out as he pulled the hat off his head and started unraveling his scarf. Actually, he only had two of Bokuto’s sweaters currently in his possession. Last week he’d sent Kuroo to return the others, concerned that at some point Bokuto was going to run out of ones for him to steal. 

“I said I forgot, not that I didn’t have any,” Kenma sniped, side eyeing the garments that Akaashi was holding out to him. The problem was that none of the sweaters he owned were a fraction as cozy as Bokuto’s were. Even after going out and buying his own, same brand, same size, same everything, they just weren’t as good. It hadn’t taken him long to reach the conclusion it was to do with  _ who _ he was stealing the clothing from, rather than the articles themselves. As of yet he hadn’t decided what to do with that knowledge. 

“That is what you said,” Akaashi agreed, a single eyebrow going up when Kenma still didn’t take the scarf. Caving to the inevitable fact that he’d missed Bokuto, he was about to reach for the scrap of warmth when he happened to catch a flash of colour out of the corner of his eye. Tracking the movement, his gaze settled on Bokuto hurrying out of a nearby building. Following the direction he was looking, Akaashi let out a huff of laughter before winding his scarf back around his neck. “Perfect timing.” 

Ignoring the jab, Kenma made a mental note to get back at Akaashi sometime soon. Then the thought was gone from his mind as Bokuto spotted them, stopping in the middle of the pathway before breaking into a jog, stripping off his sweater before he even reached them. Tamping down the smile that was struggling to take over his face, Kenma shoved his cup in Akaashi’s direction, not needing to see it to feel the eye roll that earned him. 

“Kenma! Did you forget your jacket again?” Bokuto asked, voice raised to travel the distance between them. Shaking out the sweater, Bokuto straightened his shirt to cover the flash of midriff that had been revealed. Closing in, Kenma felt a niggling of guilt when he saw every single worry line that was engraved in Bokuto’s face. 

“I left it at home,” Kenma agreed without straight out having to lie to him. The snort that came from his side had him scowling, mentally adding it to Akaashi’s list of transgressions. Reaching out to take the fabric, he instinctively shuffled back when, instead of handing it over as per usual, Bokuto tried to put it on for him. Undeterred, Bokuto followed the movement, popping the sweater over his head. Surprise kept him from responding and it only doubled when Bokuto gently guided his arms into the sleeves before pulling it down the rest of the way. 

Generally Bokuto tried to tone down his tactile nature around Kenma, aware after all these years how uncomfortable it made him. But to have Bokuto’s hands ran up and down his arms sent tingles erupting across Kenma’s skin, despite the layer that was between them. It may have been attributed to the blood flow resuming, but the twisting in his gut was definitely not, leaving Kenma feeling out of sorts. 

“You need to be more careful,” Bokuto fretted, eyes darting over Kenma’s face, serious in a way that Kenma rarely saw him. Before he could respond a large hand was covering his forehead, lingering for a few seconds before migrating down to cup his cheek. “You look really flushed.” The words were muttered under his breath, almost like Bokuto was talking to himself, and Kenma could feel the blood rushing to his face in response. 

“It’s fine,” Kenma said, throat dry. Even getting those two words out without them getting stuck was a hardship. 

“No it’s not. Kuroo should never have let you out this morning,” Bokuto complained, still not moving his hand. The weight of his gaze was heavy and with every minute that passed Kenma felt himself getting more flustered. 

“You realize he’s not a child,” Akaashi pointed out, reminding them both that he was still there, watching the whole thing unfold with a bemused smile, sipping absently on Kenma’s coffee. If Kenma wasn’t against the idea of breaking Bokuto’s hold on him he would have moved to grab it back, or what was left of it at any rate. 

“Well he shouldn’t be out this early,” Bokuto switched tactics, giving Akaashi a look that dared him to disagree. 

“This was the only time slot for the class that I need,” Kenma said, answering the question of why on Earth he would willingly get up at the break of dawn. Answer: he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter which year or semester he decided to take the class, it was always in the same time slot, because the school board was sadistic. It was at least his only class of the day, so immediately after attending he would be back in bed. 

“I’ll go and give the school in trouble,” Bokuto promised, and Kenma was filled with the certainty that he absolutely would, if Kenma allowed him to. As tempting as it was though, no one needed that type of embarrassment. At least not while Kenma still intended to commandeer Bokuto’s sweaters at every possible opportunity. 

“ _ You _ might be in trouble with the school if you don’t get to class,” Akaashi cut in again. That at least seemed to bring Bokuto back to himself. When he withdrew his hand, Kenma couldn't help but sigh, feeling the loss keenly. Pulling on the too long sleeves until his hands were free, Kenma dug around in his pocket for some change. 

“Let me get you a drink. I need a new one anyway,” he offered, glowering at Akaashi who did not look in the least contrite. Shuffling over to the cart again, he ordered another coffee for himself and the tea that Bokuto always got. 

“Thank you Kenma,” Bokuto said, practically glowing when he was handed his drink, as if this was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. 

“S’fine.” It was disconcerting to be on the receiving end of such undivided attention. Especially when it was for something as simple as a cup of tea. Pulling out his phone to check the time, he was less than pleased by what he saw. “5 minutes till class.”

“Oh shit, I’m going to be late! I’ll see you guys later,” Bokuto said, eyes going wide at the news. Turning back the way he had come, he broke into a gentle jog, cup carefully clasped between both hands so as not to spill anything. 

Falling into step together, Akaashi and Kenma headed to the nearby building, with plenty of time to make their own classes. 

“Where is his class anyway?” Kenma questioned after a few seconds of walking in silence. Usually, with more time until lessons started, Bokuto would walk him to his own class, keeping him company until a few minutes before. The combination of the early hour and lack of coffee usually meant Kenma was fairly unresponsive, but Bokuto never had an issue keeping up a running conversation. Nor did he seem to mind having to do so. With that being said, he’d always assumed that meant Bokuto’s own class was nearby. 

“It’s by his dorm,” Akaashi said, shooting him a sly look. Drawing up short, he just stared in disbelief, trying to wrap his head around that information. 

“On the other side of campus? But why….” The school itself wasn’t huge but it did take a good chunk of time to get from one side to the other, and along the way there were a plethora of coffee shops and carts that could very easily provide Bokuto with the tea he drank each morning. 

“Why indeed.” This time he sounded almost pitying, as if he genuinely couldn’t believe how anyone could be so dense. Kenma couldn’t bring himself to look at Akaashi, almost afraid of what he would read in his face. When he started walking again, Kenma automatically followed his lead. 

The implication that Bokuto came all the way to this side of campus, on the one day Kenma had an early class, just to _see_ _him_ , was mind boggling. Embarrassment and elation warred within himself. Embarrassment that he had never noticed, that he might never have realized if he hadn’t asked. Elation that, whatever it was that he was feeling, maybe Bokuto was too. When he finally looked up it was to find that they were standing at the door of his class, a steady stream of students trickling past them. Automatically he joined them, throwing a wave over his shoulder that was more sleeve than anything else. 

“And one other thing?” Akaashi called after him, grabbing his attention. Turning just enough to catch sight of him, the wicked smile that spread across Akaashi’s face set all his senses on high alert. “Bokuto doesn’t even really like tea. He just hates it less than coffee.” 

With that he was gone. Leaving Kenma with an overload of information, far too early in the morning to process. Finding a seat, he collapsed into it, sinking down low as he dragged the neck of the sweater up to his face, breathing in the calming scent that was Bokuto. Now he just had to make it through a lecture, mind in turmoil, while he pretended to pay attention. This was why he preferred to not get up before noon. It only led to complicated matters.

* * *

Fingers flying across the controller with an accuracy honed from a lifetime of playing, Kenma stares unblinking at the screen, every ounce of concentration focused on finishing this campaign. On the side of his screen comments flickered to life, quickly being pushed up the line as more poured in. Not that Kenma paid them any mind. Maybe when he was done he might answer a question or two if any caught his attention but it was highly unlikely. He was just here to do his thing and didn’t have time to slow down for anyone. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the sound of the front door slamming closed and voices moving further into the apartment. It was around the time Kuroo usually got home from work, so Kenma tuned it back out. Taking out a string of bad guys, a high pitched noise of surprise caught his attention. Unconsciously, he found himself listening in after he was able to place the voice’s owner as Bokuto. 

Another bad guy taken care of, the low rumble of voices filtered through the door, the two numpties trying to be considerate by keeping the noise down. Straining to pick up the faint trill of Bokuto’s laughter, the sharp buzzer that signaled his death caught him off guard. Focusing on the screen, he blinked a few times as he tried to process the fact that not only had he been killed, he’d been taken out by a low level monster that he could normally kill in his sleep. 

The side of his screen was going crazy with comments, exclamation marks and caps lock overflowing the chat. Sparing them a glance, he contemplated starting up the campaign again. Usually he would be streaming for at least another half hour. Before he could change his mind, Kenma slipped his headphones off, tossing them to the side. Hauling himself out the chair, he shuffled his way into the living room, pausing when it was the find Kuroo and Bokuto’s feet hanging over the back of the couch. 

No sooner had he stepped further into the room, than the feet disappeared and two heads popped up. Hair in disarray, cheeks flushed from the blood that had rushed down into them, Bokuto was the definition of adorable. 

“Kenma! Did we disturb you?” Bokuto asked, sounding contrite. Without looking, he struck out, landing a punch on Kuroo’s arm. “I said you were being too loud!” 

“Ow! I live here too you know!” Kuroo complained, rubbing his arm and scowling at Kenma like it was somehow his fault. 

“Unfortunately you do,” Kenma agreed, ignoring the indignant round of protests that resulted in. Circling the couch, he perched on the arm beside Bokuto, putting his feet up on the cushions so he could wrap his arms around his knees, resting his head on top. 

“Shouldn’t you be streaming Kenma? You’re not usually finished this early,” Bokuto asked, double checking the clock for the time. 

“I’m done for the day,” Kenma said, curiosity niggling away as to why Bokuto knew what his gaming schedule was. The only game Bokuto ever played was a mobile app that was based on collecting and taking care of bunnies. To be fair, that never stopped him from listening to Kenma when he got going on a rant about everything that was wrong with the mechanisms of whatever game he happened to be playing. 

“Aw did you get to the end of the dungeon? I wanted to know what the prize was.” 

“Bokuto always watches,” Kuroo filled in the blanks, giving Bokuto a shove as he stood up, stretching his arms high above his head. “Last week we missed the start of our movie because he just  _ had _ to stay till the end.” 

“We missed five minutes of trailers,” Bokuto argued, face slowly turning a bright red as he resolutely stared at the couch, fingers sketching out some unseen pattern. “Which we would have made if you didn’t walk like an old lady!” 

“Excuse me if I don’t feel the need to  _ run  _ from place to pl-” Kuroo started to defend himself before Kenma cut him off.

“You don’t even like video games,” Kenma pointed out. Apparently his mouth had a mind of its own because he hadn’t intended to say anything, content to wallow in the unknown. With a huff of irritation, Kuroo mumbled something about being ignored anyway and he might as well go for a snack, before disappearing.

“I guess not, but I like watching you,” Bokuto agreed, sneaking a peek up at him. It was disconcerting to be looking down at him, even if it was a height difference manufactured purely by his choice in seat and the fact that Bokuto was curled in on himself. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered him, he would have used it to advantage and enjoyed it, but there was something tense in the air between them and it was setting Kenma on edge. That coupled with the words that were hanging in the air between them, he wasn’t sure how to respond. Realizing what he’d said, Bokuto rushed to clarify. “Play! I like watching you  _ play _ . Not anything weird!” 

“Weird is okay.” Was it hot in here? Kenma felt as if his skin had shrunk down a size. Every single move that he made, even breathing, was stretching him thin. “I like your sweaters.” Which, in hindsight, was a tad more bizarre than Bokuto’s declaration. What he was feeling towards Bokuto was indescribable, he wasn’t sure exactly what this mass of nervousness and warmth was. Certainly it was unlike anything he’d felt towards another person before, one that had emerged slowly and with more strength the more he got to know Bokuto. 

“We should do something soon. Just the two of us. There’s that cafe a couple of blocks away that has the most amazing pie?” Bokuto suggested, positively beaming at him. 

“Well I suppose if there’ll be pie,” Kenma agreed after pretending to think for a few seconds. A silence lapsed between them, one that would have been comfortable if not for the fact it was giving Kenma an unnerving amount of time to focus on the giddy feeling bubbling up inside him. This was completely uncharted territory. 

“Bokuto! We should probably head if we want good seats,” Kuroo called, his voice preceding him into the room. When he did make an appearance he had a bag of chips in his hand and was happily munching away. “Kenma you should come too.” The spray of crumbs that sent in his direction was enough to get him off the couch, conveying his disgust to Kuroo with his face. 

“Go where?” he asked, not really caring to hear the answer, already decided that he wasn’t going to go. 

“The basketball game!” 

“Pass.” Heading back in the direction of his room, he briefly hesitated, throwing a look back at Bokuto. Did he expect him to go? Should Kenma be trying to spend time with him now that there was an established  _ something _ between them? Wasn’t that how these things worked? A worm of unease sprouted in his gut. 

“Just us then!” Bokuto said, springing off the couch, raring to go, seemingly unbothered by Kenma’s lack of interest. 

“Fine fine. Don’t forget to eat something for dinner,” Kuroo fretted, apparently forgetting that he was in fact, not Kenma’s mother. Refusing to dignify that with an answer, he retreated back to the safety of his room. Exhausted from the events of the last hour he collapsed into bed, resolved to take a brief nap before going back to his games. If only his heart would calm down enough to let him fall asleep.

* * *

Weak sunlight filtered in through a slit in the curtains, highlighting everything it touched in a soft, warm glow. The faint whistling of bird song could be heard if one listened close enough, welcoming the morning. Kenma hated it. It was an abomination to be awake this early. A few weeks remained until the end of the semester and he would be done with this waking with the sun nonsense. 

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, ready to kill Kuroo should he try to impede him on his way out the door with the insistence that he eat breakfast, a yawn tugged at his jaw. Shuffling his way out of the apartment, he’d already locked the door and was halfway to the stairs before he realized that they were blocked. 

Bokuto was perched on the edge of the steps, doing something on his phone while his leg bounced a mile a minute. Set down beside him was a large cup, with Kenma’s favourite coffee shop logo splashed across the side, and a sweater neatly folded. The sight of it filled Kenma with disappointment. It was a nice thought but it wasn’t the same as stealing Bokuto’s. Between that and the energy that was radiating off of Bokuto, he couldn’t help but feeling wrong footed. This was far from the norm and the worry from the prior night was returning. Were things between them going to be too different now? Kenma hadn’t even had time to muddle through his feelings. 

Spotting him finally, Bokuto leapt to his feet, not giving Kenma a chance to formulate a plan of attack. 

“I thought I could walk you to class?” Bokuto offered up hopefully. Unable to muster the energy to words, Kenma hummed half heartedly, nodding in agreement. “Awesome! And I brought an extra sweater incase you forgot yours.” 

Neither of them commented on the fact that they were still standing in front of Kenma’s apartment and he could easily have retreated inside to find one of his own. Instead Bokuto stripped off the sweater he was currently wearing, handing it over before putting on the spare he’d brought. Stunned, Kenma went through the motions of tugging the garment over his head, letting the warmth envelop him completely. How ridiculous, to give him the one he’d been wearing. As soon as his hands were free of the sleeves, a warm cup was being pressed into his palm, before Bokuto stepped back, giving him room to process. 

“Thanks,” Kenma said, inhaling a large mouthful of the still too hot coffee. Leading the way down the stairs, Bokuto followed, soft words washing over Kenma as he started an anecdote about the basketball game from the previous night. Listening with half an ear, they were a few streets over before Kenma felt awake enough to engage. 

Glancing over, it was to find Bokuto already watching him, smile curling the edges of his mouth up. Upon further reflection, he realized that more specifically Bokuto’s eyes kept flitting to where Kenma’s free hand was hanging by his side. Seized by impulse, Kenma reached out and slipped his hand into Bokuto’s, continuing to walk as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. His wildly beating heart and the sweat collecting on his palms were enough to give away his act of indifference. Stumbling over his words, Bokuto fell silent for a few steps before resuming his story, excitement radiating from every inch of him. 

Things were definitely different between them now. Yet, surrounded by Bokuto’s warmth, hand safely ensconced in his, Kenma knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was nothing to worry about. Whatever this was, whatever it ended up being, they were going to be just fine. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Between the anime and the manga I am truly being spoiled by all the good content. So I wrote this very indulgent fluff piece because my heart hurts and I'm soft. 
> 
> Feel free to come and cry about any of the boys / drop a prompt etc etc: 
> 
> [my tumblr! ](http://x-lazart-x.tumblr.com/) and [my twitter! ](https://twitter.com/x_Lazart_x)


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